


A Child in Love

by ScarletConductor



Category: American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: Blasphemy, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Genetic Disorders & Abnormalities, Implied Femslash, Mild Language, Mommy Issues, Mutilation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Older Man/Younger Woman, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletConductor/pseuds/ScarletConductor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These walls have been my home for all of my life, the parts of it I care to remember anyways. My life before was filled with neglect, lacking in tactile touch and warm words. My physical appearance is alarming at best, and most don't even pretend to accept me. My world before he came along was cold, even the occasional rays of sun that I could lounge in fail in comparison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Briarcliff: New arrivals.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something that has been bouncing around in my head for a while.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Its chilly today, the wind is vicious and bordering on uncomfortable. I have to wrap my hands up in the material of my sweater to keep the cool air from damaging the soft, sensitive, skin. Pepper is spinning again; she loves to feel free, like she is flying, the skirt of her gown billows out in a confined bell shape. The people here think that she's crazy, but in their defense, they think we're all crazy, most of us are, some more so than others.

I close my eyes as cool air drift across my face.

A few of us are sane, but not by society's standards. A few of us are criminals with crimes so heinous that they would have to be crazy to commit them, right? A few of us are allowed outside, like Pepper and myself, we aren't what the orderlies refer to as 'runners'. Pepper and I are, in fact, the least likely to cause any kind of commotion, aside from Pepper's occasional food sneaking incidents. Some habits are hard to break, before becoming a resident of the lovely Briarcliff Manor, the only food Pepper ever got was the food she could successfully sneak. I'm not Pepper is one of the sane ones, she's done some horrible things, but horrible things have been done to her as well. People always try to justify maltreatment of the people that have mental problems, sang that they are not human enough to worry about, that they don't care. That is simply not true. Just because a person doesn't share their pain with the world, doesn't meant that it is absent.

Most people see this place as some kind of a horror house, and it is to most, but when you come from a place that is unbearable in every sense, this place isn't so bad. We're fed, we're clothed, we're allowed to bathe, we're even allowed to smoke if we're so inclined. But, of course, everyone is treated accordingly. If you misbehave, you are punished. That's not so abnormal.

Most of my memories of life outside of this fence are all blurred, distorted in ways I don't fully understand and hidden just beyond my reach. Perhaps I don't remember because I don't want to. Or it could be that I've had one too many rounds of electro shock therapy, maybe. But I can't recall ever having that particular treatment done to me, then again, my memory is faulty.

I was young when I arrived I know that as much. Not too young, not a child, old enough for Sister Jude to take me in, Briarcliff Manor does not have a children's ward, after all. I remember my mother and father, cruel and spiteful. The kind of people that should never be allowed to procreate. I was never hugged as a child, no bedtime stories reached my ears and the concept of a kiss goodnight is strange to me still. My parents were abusive; I would often find myself locked within a closet for days on end for the smallest of things, the most common was my appearance.

I was born on June 12, 1947 in Salem, Massachusetts. My parents, expecting a son, had chosen Gabriel and after my birth, they were too stunned to think of anything else. I was born with Albinism and Alexandria's Genesis. When I was around six months old my pale blue eyes shifted into a rich purple they've been that way ever since. My unique physicality only stood to reinforce what my parents already knew, I was different, and being different in a town like Salem meant that you were unacceptable.

I never went to school; I learned all that I know from the books that were left after the old Library burned down. I could go there and read for hours, my parents didn't care where I was and if I wasn't home by the time they locked the door, I could stay wherever I ended up at until the next morning when the doors would be unlocked again.

When my father was killed one winter, my mother lasted a few weeks before claiming that she could no longer handle me and after being told that she couldn't put me up for adoption because of my age and her multiple attempts on my life, the last of which involved me waking to her holding me beneath the water in our old claw footed bathtub, she decided that Briarcliff was the last option.

Sister Jude had, as politely as the woman is able, denied her first request for my Admission. I was too young then, she was told to bring me back after I was of age if she was unable to be a mother. A week later, after my birthday, I admitted to Briarcliff Manor where I have remained ever since.

Patients come and go, some die, some are 'cured', and some are, just simply, never seen again. Today we have a new arrival, Kit Walker "Bloody Face", who is being committed to Briarcliff today after being accused of murdering his wife and two other women.

Our last addition before Mr. Walker, Grace Bertrand, was committed to Briarcliff after murdering her step-mother and sexually abusive father, with an axe, she's our own personal Lizzie Borden. And before Grace, there was Shelley. Shelley is our resident Nymphomaniac, and according to her file, she began masturbating at the age of five. Her mother tried to curb this behavior by forcing her to wear mittens. She felt so happy touching herself that she couldn't stop. Eventually, she ran away to live a fast jazz-filled life and met a bass player whom she eventually married. However, after their happiness died down, her husband expected her to stay at home and be a doting wife while he openly cheated on her with other women. One day, her husband came home to find Shelley in bed with two Navy sailors. In retaliation, he reported her alleged "nymphomania" to the authorities and signed to have her locked up in Briarcliff.

I am convinced that Shelley's goal while she is forced to remain here is to torment me. Her sporadic hurling of insults at me, days could go by without interruption form her and then she would pounce, the taunts alone are enough to make a grown man cry and if I had not been raised as I had, that could have been enough to make me cry as well. I try to be sympathetic. Shelley is one of the normal ones, after all. Or as normal as Shelley can be, I suppose. Shunned and scorned for things that men are openly praised for. But it is exceedingly difficult not to loathe her. We all make choices every day; we choose to be cruel or kind.

On a good day, Sister Mary Eunice will wrap her arm around my slight shoulders and tell me that, "The words of a whore cannot harm the heart of the righteous." It is an odd statement, but I don't mind, I revel in the warmth her embrace brings.

The sound of tires rolling up the path reaches my ears, I allow this to pull me from my inner musing and open my eyes. A baby blue convertible car comes to a stop a few feet from the first set of stairs, the driver is a woman, I lean forward in my place on the entrance stairs to observe her. She's tall and thin, with short brown hair and angular features, she's dressed in a olive toned colored skirt and jacket suit. She drops a cigarette onto the pavement and makes her way towards the entrance, I can't help but scowl. She has no respect for this place, I wonder how she would like it if a stranger dropped their trash on her driveway.

I see Pepper approaching from the side slowly with a white flower in her hand. I cannot help but laugh when Pepper grabs her shoulder, the expression on her face was hilarious, and shouts, "Play with me!" the woman smiles a fake and frightened smile and takes the flower. This obviously pleases Pepper and she spins again as she repeats, "Play with me!" The ribbon I tied in her hair is coming loose and I stand from my seated position, "Ow." The sound comes from the woman and Sister Mary Eunice joins the pair, telling Pepper to "leave the lady alone".

I giggle again when I hear the woman say to Sister Mary Eunice that, "It's fine, she was only trying to make friends." The laughter I was holding in is expelled when she adds, "It was harmless." And Sister Mary Eunice tells the woman what Pepper had done. This draws yet another frightened look from the woman and Pepper looks a little sad. I stop laughing and call out to Pepper, reaching for her before she is close enough to touch and draw her up to the edge of the steps as the woman and Sister Mary Eunice walk by so that I can reach her head and re-tie her bow. Pepper smiles at me and I curl her small amount of hair around my fingers, forcing the hair to loop as well.

When Sister Mary Eunice opens the door I hear the once muffled sounds of the madness inside and sigh, I reach down, grip Pepper's hand, and pull her towards the door that Sister Mary Eunice is holding open for us, "What about that one, is that one safe?" The woman asks, pointing to me as I pull pepper past her and down the hall, "Gabriel? Well, she's as safe as they come, I suppose." I open the door to the common room and allow Pepper to go before me as I pull the door shut, cutting off Sister Mary Eunice telling the woman about Sister Jude's stairway to heaven.

Pepper has gone off and found herself a picture book to flip through, I leave her be and make my way towards my favorite chair. It's soft and red, enough sun hits it so it is almost always warm, and if I concentrate very hard I can almost imagine I'm being held. I look around and notice that Shelley is absent, this is odd but not unheard of, I wonder if she was caught doing something naughty again. She's one of the one's that can't seem to follow the rules.

I let my mind wander, and sink back into the softness of the chair, the repetitive French lulling me softly and Pepper's occasional giggles bringing a smile to my face.

The sound of the doors being thrown opened rouses me. Shelley walks through, the side of her head now shaved. I smile internally and look away to where Grace is seated a few feet away, she openly giggles and hides it behind her hand.

"Whatever did you do this time, Shelley?" Grace asks.

Shelley scoffs and stands by the window on the other side of the room.

I hear a commotion out in the hall as I see figures rush by.

I stand, make my way to the doors, and step out into the hall. I come to a stop beside the stars and curl my fingers around the bars of the rail just as the doors open and a man, Kit Walker, is lead inside by two large officers. I stare at him inquisitively, he meets my eyes and I see fear there. My eyebrows furrow in confusion. This is not that man I had envisioned, this man is weak. He's frightened and looks like he might cry at any moment, this terrified man is not what I have envisioned. They drag him off and I return to the common room. I sink into the cushion of the chair. I think back to the many books I've read, the medical ones, the amount upper body strength that one would need to lift grown women is substantial, Kit Walker lacks this strength. Not to mention the force that would be required to cleave through bone. Pondering this new information, I allow my eyes to wander around the room, before shutting my eyes and humming along with the song.

A few hours later, Kit stumbles through the door, still in his gown and looking very disoriented. I'm curled up beside Pepper as she chews on a wad of rope, my hands buried deep within the pockets of my sweater. I watch Shelley move towards Kit.

"Ooh, Sister Jude is on the warpath!" She exclaims as she reaches out and touches his backside.

" Hey, stop it!" Kit shouts and smacks at her hand.

"Can't make the welts go away, but I can make you forget you had 'em." Shelley replies in what she thinks is a seductive voice as she strokes her hand down his back. I roll my eyes at her antics.

"The nurse already gave me a salve." Kit says, I snicker and bring one of my hands out of my sweater and place the tip of my thumb into my mouth. As Shelley scurries in front of Kit.

"A salve can't cure you like I can in your session in the hydrotherapy room with me." Shelley says, walking backwards a few steps before turning around and sticking her rear out. "I speak French and Greek."

"Will you beat it?!" Kit shouts as he pushes her away.

"He's mine." I hear Shelley say as I focus my attention on Pepper, she has somehow managed to tie a few of her fingers into the rope; I busy myself with untying her flanges. I allow myself to wonder as I work the knots. I sigh, he's not what I imagined at all. I am disappointed in my discovery, I was looking forward to observing this so called mad man, now I'll have to find something else to bide my time with.

Pepper leaps from the couch and joins the other gathered around, what I'm assuming to be, a fight. I sigh and look down to where my fingers have reddened with minor rope burn. I hear the clicking of Sister Jude's heels and jump up to retrieve Pepper. I wrap my fingers around her upper arm and quickly pull her away and arrange us into a position that looks like I'm playing in her hair again. She's seated on the floor in front of me and I'm in my chair, I untie the bow from her hair just as Sister Jude glides into the room and blows her whistle, causing all the patents to scurry. I keep my attention on the small amount of hair atop pepper's head until the commotion is over and the patients resume their activities.

* * *

When lockdown comes, I lay in my bed and stare up at the small amount of moon light coming into my room until I fall asleep.

* * *

The next day passes uneventfully, there is a new voice screaming through the halls, but I've yet to see the face that goes along with it. I go through my day as I normally would, most of my time is spent in the bakery, and when I'm not there I'm with Pepper, but her increasing agitation is causing me some trouble. I will admit that my reasons are selfish. I crave the tactile contact; I am slightly ashamed by my impulsive need. When lockdown comes that night, I fall into a restless sleep, with dreams of warm embraces and cold, empty rooms.


	2. Tricks And Treats: Oblivion

"Everybody, up and out! Now! Come on, stand out in the hall."

A guard banging on the door to my room, and the infernal shouting, awakens me. I rise from my bed and neatly fold the blanket and remove my pillow from its case before slipping my slippers on and retrieving two red ribbons, I curl them around a button on my sweater and stand by the door waiting for it to open. A few seconds later, the door swings open and I see Franks face. He lowers his flashlight so it's not shining in my eyes.

"Good morning Frank!" I greet warmly as I part my hair down the center. I'm rewarded with a smile.

"Good morning to you too, Gabriel."

He moves back to allow me enough room to exit and I walk past him. I begin to braid one side of my parted hair as I turn to watch him shake out the pillowcase and blanket before patting down the mattress and lifting it to pear underneath. He walks around the room and inspects the area thoroughly. I'm not offended by this, I know the rules and I understand. Frank is never rude or abusive to my personal items and always allowed me to straighten my room before I go.

By the time he's done with his search I'm tying off my finished braid with the other ribbon. He taps my small fingers lightly with the back of his flashlight. I look up at him curiously and see the small smile on his face.

"What's that you've got there?" He asks teasingly. And I glance down with a grin on my face before looking up at him seriously.

"Oh, this?" I ask, "Well, this my rock hammer. I'm busting out of this place, you see." I say with a straight face, then dissolve into giggles.

"I see." Frank says with mock seriousness.

"Well, I'm just not so sure I should allow you to keep such an item." He continues.

I gasp and place my hand over my heart, "You wouldn't dare!" I whisper out in horror.

Frank laughs lightly and throws his thumb over his shoulder, "Go on, you've got five minutes."

I nod and move to approach my bed, "Thank you, Frank." I call out to him as he makes his way to the next room.

When I'm done, I move to stand in the hall and start my second braid. I see Sister Jude outside of Pepper's room, the guard holding a nibbled loaf of bread. I shake my head and wiggle my fingers at Pepper; she grins at me and flops her hand in a messy wave. Sister Jude looks towards me then back at Pepper. I focus my finger on weaving my hair into a neat plait as I observe the interaction.

"Now, tell me, why is it we don't allow food in the rooms?" Sister Jude asks.

"Rats!" Pepper shouts out.

"That's right, Pepper. Why can't you get that through your pointy little head? Huh?" Sister Jude asks while tapping Pepper on her head lightly with her knuckles.

"Hey, Sister." I look over to Shelley and narrow my eyes.

"I have a cucumber in my room." She says as she sways by her door, "But not because I was hungry." She finishes.

Sister Jude starts walking down the hall, "Stifle yourself, Shelley. I'll be with you in a minute." She says as she comes to a stop beside another room, I see the woman from a few days ago standing beside the doorway, Interesting, she didn't look crazy.

"Find anything, Frank?" Sister Jude asks and peers into the room.

"No, looks clean to me." Frank says from within the room.

"Check the pillowcase." Sister Jude requests.

"Uh-huh." Frank says, "Here we are." I can't help but giggle at Franks laugh, so amateurish.

Frank sets the contraband onto Sister Jude's clipboard and leans against the doorframe.

"What do we have here?" Sister Jude asks as she unfolds the paper.

"October 28." Sister Jude reads aloud, "Strip-searched and deloused. Denied phone call." She finishes.

"Who would you like to call, Miss Winters? The American Civil Lesbians Union?" I hear Frank laugh and smile.

Lesbian? So, she's like Shelley then, no real wrongdoings, just nature. Such is the way of life, I suppose.

"My editor knows I came here to write a story." The woman, Miss Winters, says, "And, boy, do I have a great scoop for him now." She continues.

"Ah, yes." Sister Jude replies mockingly, "You know, I've read your columns about baked beans, gallivanting geese who've lost their way home." She leans in slightly, "Riveting. Too bad your ambition outweighs your talent." She finishes as she moves around Miss Winters and heads down the hall.

"I don't need those, Sister." Miss Winters calls out cockily, "I have an excellent memory."

"Yeah?" Sister Jude asks, "We'll see about that." And walks through the doors, not sparing a glance at Miss Winters.

I make my way towards the bakery and allow my mind to sort through my newly acquired information as I weave through the halls; I pass a man in a suit, staring through the glass on the door to Doctor Arden's Electro shock therapy room. It seems that our little family is growing.

* * *

**OTPOV**

I am seated at a small table in the room crowded by the mentally unstable, the sound of distressed moaning and Soeur Sourire's song "Dominique" fills the space, smoke rises languidly from the lit cigarette between my fingers. I Shuffle through my papers one last time in preparation _._ Kit Walker is the perfect candidate to take the fall.

The doors open and Mr. Walker is escorted through, an orderly gripping each arm. When the trio is a few feet from me Mr. Walker pushes himself against a table that is pressed against the wall, his restrained hands grasping for a lone cigarette that lay abandoned on a wooden box that sits atop the table.

I raise from my seat and make my way towards them, "Gentlemen." I say as they knock the broken cigarette from his hand. I raise my own hand, motioning them to stop. "I can handle it from here."

When they don't make to release him right away, I become irritated. "Thank you." I add in a tone that would suggest that they should leave now. The two orderlies release him and I reach my hand out to the man in the wrist restraints.

"Mr. Walker, Dr. Oliver Thredson." After a small hesitation, he extends his hand as much as possible in his restraints and accepts my hand in a firm handshake.

"All right if I call you Kit?" I ask as I make my way back to the seat that I vacated.

"Sure." Kit replies as he too takes a seat, he places himself in the seat cross from me with little grace and unfolds his legs.

"Seems unreasonable to me that a man should be denied the right to smoke." I say as I extend my gold plated lighter to him.

One cigarette and a few moments later I push down on the ignition and the flame releases from within the lighter. I lean back and rest my elbow on the edge of the table before taking a long pull form my cigarette.

"Do you know why I'm here, Kit?" I ask, staring intently at him.

"You're the headshrinker the courts sent to see if I'm crazy." Kit says in a tone that I don't enjoy.  
"If you say I am, they leave me here to rot, and if you say I'm not, they put me on trial, and then fry me." He continues.

"Trouble is..." He leans towards me as if he were telling a secret. "I'm not crazy. And I didn't kill those ladies." He shakes his head.

"What about your wife?" I ask, leaning a fraction closer and take another pull from my cigarette.

"Alma's not dead." He says, shaking his head once again, as if he's trying to convince himself. "That body didn't have a head."

"None of the bodies had heads, Kit." I tell him softly. He shuts his eyes tightly and lowers his head. I raise my hand to take another drag before beginning again, "Initially, you told police that you were-"

"I know what I said!" He shouts. I grit my teeth as I am cut off by Kit's outburst.

"But it wasn't Alma." Kit continues in a lower voice. I nod my head slightly, encouragingly. "See, I know that now." He continues,"'Cause I'm starting to remember." I tilt my head to the side, intrigued. "And I saw her. After they took us, she was alive." His lips tremble slightly.

"They?" I inquire as I glance down to my notes, I hear the sound of the doors being opened once again.

"The men from outer space?" I finish as I look behind Kit to the door where I spot one of the guards, Frank I believe, escorting a small girl with stark white braids into the room.

"They have her." Kit says, attempting to regain my attention. I smile, patronizingly at him before I look back to the girl.

"I'm sure they do, Kit." I take another pull from my diminishing cigarette and lean back in my seat as Kit storms away. "I'm sure they do." I say quietly to myself as I watch the guard smile down at the girl and gently place a hand on her shoulder. This has my attention; no one is gentle around here. Briarcliff is a harsh and brutal place.

I exhale slowly and watch as the guard hands the girl an old, grubby, brown stuffed bear, a faded blue ribbon is tied in what I assume to have been neat bow when the stuffed bear was new and one of its black button eyes has come undone and now hangs slightly askew. Small fingers close softly around one of the bear's arms and she smiles up at the guard as he pats her head before turning and leaving with his companion.

The small girl holds the bear in a tight, yet gentle, grip. She stares down at it lovingly and strokes her tiny fingers over the tattered ear of the bear before tucking it into her arms as she folds them across her chest and glides over to a worn, red, velvet covered chair a few feet from where I am perched. She turns, facing me now, her calves touching the cushion of the chair where it has slid off a few inches, before placing the bear on the low table between us and bracing her hands on the rests of the chair. She lifts both her legs, the slippers on her feet slide off, supported by her arms now, and folds herself into the worn seat before lightly snatching the bear off the table and placing it in her lap.

Her abnormally colored hair is long, longer than any I have seen in this place, the braids curl up slightly and rests on the cushion of the chair. She has a slight build but is also equipped with supple curves, made visible by the tension in the material of her dress. She's not quite as grimy as the others, there are only a few spots where her creamy white skin is covered, though I'm not sure if that is because she's bathed recently or she just doesn't get the opportunity to get dirty. Her skin is so smooth and flawless, I wonder, idly, if it is as soft as it looks. Her obvious youth suggests that her warm flesh could be covered in soft, downy like, hairs. Like Donna Burton's was, soft and fuzzy, like milky white a peach.

I take on last pull from my cigarette before I lean forward and press the tip into the ashtray. The girl raises her head at my movements and I'm met with the sight of her face. Her irises are the oddest shade of purple, a small nose, a full set of lips and a dainty chin; her eyebrows are almost invisible suggesting that the color of her hair is natural. Her wide amethyst eyes lock on me and her head tilts to the side in a curious manner, as I lean back in my chair and slide another cigarette from the pack. I place the filter of the cigarette between my lips and tilt the pack towards her and my head towards the pack, offering her the contents.

Her forehead scrunches slightly, eyebrows furrowed, as she bites into her lip before shaking her head slowly.

"It's the 1960's , everyone smokes." I say as I tuck the pack into the pocket of my shirt. I bring my lighter up, press down on the ignition and light the tip, the smoke rises, and I inhale deeply. The girl across from me tilts her head again, an endearing habit, and stares at me for a moment before looking down to the bear in her lap.

"You're wasting your time; she doesn't have what you're looking for." A woman with stringy blonde hair that's shaved on one side says as she practically throws herself into the chair that Kit was sitting in.

"That's Gabriel. You see, she's the reason sister Jude won't open a children's ward." The woman laughs harshly and wiggles her fingers towards the girl, Gabriel, mockingly.

"Her mommy dropped her off here like she was dropping off the trash." The woman continued to cackle, the sound was grinding on my brain.

My eyes drift over to where the girl sat only to find the chair empty. My eyes seek her out, I crane my head around, searching.

"She ditched. She can't handle the truth." The woman stretches out in the seat.

"She can't handle a lot of things." She drags her hands up her chest and cups her breasts. "But I can. C'mon Doc, don't you want to play a little?"

I pull my papers together into a neat stack and retrieve my briefcase from the floor.

"I'm sorry, miss…" I trail off. "Shelley. But I'm sure Sister Jude would refer to me as the whore." It clicks.

"Ah, the nymphomaniac." I say and allow my eyes to roam the room again. I spot the girl standing beside a pinheaded patient, her small fingers fuss over the ribbon tied into the sparse amount of hair the Pinhead has, before stroking her head affectionately and walking out of the room.

"Well, as insightful as this conversation has been. I really must go." I rise from my seat and re-button my suit jacket before I pick up my briefcase and make my way the door.

* * *

**GPOV**

I walk along side Sister Jude as we make our way towards the Foyer.

"Tell me, how is this day treating you, Gabriel?" Sister Jude asks, "And where on earth did you get that filthy thing from?" She finishes as she points to the stuffed bear.

"Frank." I reply and shrug my shoulders, "And as to your previous question, this is one of the good days, I suppose." I think for a moment before I continue, "Shelley is spreading lies about me again, but that's nothing new."

"Lies? What fashion of lies is it today?"

"Just her usual petty blows at my origins Sister Jude, I assure you."

We round the corner and continue down the last hallway.

"Sister Jude?" I turn to see the man from the common room, and the halls before that.

"I'm Doctor Oliver Thredson." He continues as he strides up beside Sister Jude.

"Ah, the court-appointed psychiatrist." She says in recognition, "You've seen our killer of women, I trust."

I keep my eyes on the floor ahead of me as I quicken my steps to keep pace with them.

"So what's it going to be? We gonna spare the taxpayers the expense of a trial or will I have a bed opening up?" Sister Jude asks and I fall back slightly and allow them to go through the doorway before the security door first.

"I haven't made a determination yet." Doctor Thredson replies as he opens the door for Sister Jude and then waits for me to enter as well.

Once I enter the Foyer, Doctor Thredson falls back into step with Sister Jude

"Might we speak privately about the conditions here?" He asks.

"Conditions? What conditions might those be?" Sister Jude's voice holds warning as she glides towards the stairway.

"In just the short time that I've been here, I have witnessed appalling things." Doctor Thredson starts, ignoring the warning, "Abuse, malpractice." He lists.

"Candidly, I'm shocked." He finishes as I join Sister Jude on the steps.

"It's a madhouse, Doctor. What did you expect?" She asks, leaning towards him slightly.

"I expected some form of treatment, therapy!" Doctor Thredson replies hotly, "Sister, your hospital still administers electroshock therapy to treat homosexuality, it's barbaric. Behavior modification  _is_  the current standard." He finishes, his voice lowering slightly.

Ah, Lana, it was you being so noisy? Naughty girl, I smile at my tough.

"Tomato, "tomahto"." Sister Jude says lightly as she starts climbing the stairs, only to turn back and approach the Doctor. "You know, Doctor Thredson" She starts as she moves back in front of him, "let me remind you, your job here is to write a recommendation to the court regarding the sanity of one patient." She finishes, holding a single finger up to emphasize her point.

"So I suggest you do your job and let me do mine." Sister Jude, always one for the dramatics.

The door at the top of the stairs open, I see Sister Mary Eunice standing there peering down the stairs at us.

"Now if you'll excuse me, there's another unfortunate family who requires our care." And with that, she starts up the steps.

I turn to look at Doctor Thredson and find his eyes already resting on mine. I smile slightly, look away from his eyes, and sway, unsure if I should follow Sister Jude or not, she's obviously busy now. I look down and bring my unoccupied hand up to press the tip on my thumb into my lips.

The sharp intake of breath causes me to snap my eyes back to him. His own eyes have deepened, almost smoldering as they stay focused on me.

"Gabriel, dear?" Sister Mary Eunice's voice draws my gaze away from Doctor Thredson and to her.

"Yes, Sister?" I ask softly, ignoring the shifts in Doctor Thredson's breathing patterns.

"Did you need something?" She asks, "Was Sister Jude taking you somewhere?"

"No, Sister Mary Eunice. I was merely accompanying Sister Jude to her office, but I suppose she is busy now." I trail off slightly, pushing the pad of my thumb into my mouth and against the roof, "If it's not too much trouble," I start, my words slurring slightly as they work to escape my occupied orifice, "May I put this in my room?" I ask as I lift the bear in my hand slightly higher for her inspection.

"Has Sister Jude approved this?" She asks nervously.

I nod my head, "It's from Frank." I say.

"Well then, I don't see why not!" She exclaims happily, "You go right ahead."

"Thank you, Sister." I say, turn, and walk down the steps and across the Foyer. I glance back to see Doctor Thredson thundering up the stairs and Sister Mary Eunice trailing after him.

* * *

After placing my bear into my room, I wander through the halls for the better part of three hours, one could get lost within these walls if they didn't know them as well as I do. I slip through Foyer door, lean my back against one of the pillars before the stairs before sliding down to the ground, the cold stone bleeds through my sweater, and close my eyes. I attempt to piece together why Doctor Thredson would look at me as he had, I hadn't meant to upset him if that was the cause. My thoughts wander and I lose myself within my mind.

The sound of metal against metal rouses me and I shoot up from my prone position, I peak around the pillar and see the night had fallen around me. A tall man is assisting another man form the black car. I don't dwell on this, I need to be inside. I slide through the doors as soundlessly as I can, but the telltale sound of the door shutting draws attention. I flush and look down, fidgeting slightly.

"Gabriel, what were you doing out there?" Sister Jude's harsh voice inquires. I flinch and inhale deeply before I answer.

"I'm sorry, Sister Jude. I had gone out hours ago and lost track of time." I reply nervously.

I hear her sigh and move across the Foyer, her hand coils around my upper arm and she pulls slightly so that I'll follow.

"Why don't you go and find Frank, ask him to take you to be early. Hmm?" She suggests, but I know there's not really an option.

"Yes, Sister Jude. I apologize again." I say softly and slip through the doors leading towards the common room.

Frank is leaning in the hall when I approach.

"Frank?" I inquire to draw his attention.

"Yes?"

"Sister Jude said that I could go to bed early tonight, I'm feeling rather tired. Would you please take me?" I ask softly.

"'Course." He says and starts down the proper hall.

The screams are loud enough to reach me as I lay in bed; multiple voices carry on for hours. I wonder, idly, if the others can hear.

A loud buzz fills the air and suddenly, my room is illuminated in red. I sit up and stare at my door as if begins to shake on its hinges and creaks open as a siren sounds. I ease from my bed and walk slowly to the door before peering out into the hall. I hear whispers, Grace and Miss Winters, your chance for what exactly? The pair runs by my room, Miss Winter's hand grasping Grace's fore arm.

I stare after them for a moment before walking down the hall to Pepper's room. This will be trouble, and trouble is exactly what I don't need, I'm positive that my thoughtlessness earlier this evening will have earned myself some lashes. If you misbehave, you are punished. I lead Pepper back to her bed and pull the blanket over her shoulders before leaving the room and pushing the door firmly until I hear the lock click into place . I walk back across the hall and slip into my room as I hear someone scream for help, that the prisoner is escaping, I pause momentarily before stepping into my room and pulling the door shut behind me. More trouble than it's worth.


	3. Nor'easter Part One: Make a Plan To Love Me

This morning was as normal as a morning in Briarcliff Manor can be; wake up, breakfast, common room or bakery.

Sister Jude, on the other hand, is having one of her bad days, I knew from the moment she walked into the bakery. She shooed the other patients from the room and started kneading dough, a splash of flour landed on her dress and I walked over to her, apron in hand, and offered it to her. She took it from me with a small smile and placed it around her neck before messily tying the strings in a knot at the back.

I placed myself across from her and sunk into the chair. I reclined my upper body across the table and curled my arm under my head. I watch her Knead the large blob of white dough, her movements are almost therapeutic with their repetition.

I hear the shuffling of shoes and roll my eyes to the entrance, Doctor Thredson stands there, fresh pressed suit and tamed hair, his eyes falling first on Sister Jude and then onto me. A small sound from Sister Jude draws my attention and I stare at the sympathetically.

"Everything all right, Sister?" Doctor Thredson asks as he makes his way towards us, his legs are long and his strides are filled with purpose.

"Inclement weather," Sister Jude replies, "always upsets the natives." She continues to knead as she answers.

"They're fragile souls." She finishes. Doctor Thredson is behind me now, I can feel him moving about just out of my sight.

"That's why you should stop using corporal punishment." Doctor Thredson says, I can't help but snicker.

If you misbehave, you are punished. That's not so abnormal.

"I mean, at our meeting yesterday Mr. Walker couldn't even sit down." I turn my gaze to Doctor Thredson just in time to see his lip twitch up as they curl around the word 'Down'. He is an attractive man.

"I realize you're likely unfamiliar with the work of B.F. Skinner, but positive reinforcement has proven to be far more effective." He continues.

"In lay terms, Sister, a little compassion would go a long way." He finishes.

"Me?" Sister Jude asks, "I'm a beacon of compassion." She states as she adjusts the dough.

"In fact," She continues, "I spent all morning on the phone with St. Angela Parish, to borrow their movie projector. I thought a movie could distract our charges when the storm hits." The dough hits the table forcefully and I sit up quickly to avoid the flour backlash.

"I wouldn't have figured you for a movie buff." I giggle airily at his comment.

"Even I can concede that there are a few exceptions to the usual Hollywood dreck." Another flour wave moves my way as the dough is slammed into the table.

"The Archdiocese is loaning us a copy of The Sign of the Cross." She says and raises her eyebrow.

"I'm impressed." Doctor Thredson places his hands on the back of my chair, I feel the tug as his finger close over my hair that is against the wood.

"And if I can help in any way, please don't hesitate to ask." He finishes and moves towards the entrance again.

"Oh…" He pauses, "Yes, as attending physician of Jed Potter, I'll need his autopsy report for my files." My head tilts. Who? Is that what all the screaming was?

"I'm very busy, Doctor. But I'll try to locate it." Sister Jude says, her eyes on the dough.

Doctor Thredson places his hands onto the table and leans in.

"I'll bet it says he died of natural causes."

"If it's natural for a 17-year-old boy to die of a heart attack." Sister Jude snaps quietly.

"You have quite a suspicious mind, Sister. Bordering on delusional." Doctor Thredson says.

"Or maybe it's just a form of projection. A defense to protect your own guilty conscience."

"It was you, wasn't it?" Sister Jude snaps angrily. Doctor Thredson's head tilts slightly and I reach out and glide the pads of my fingers across the back of her hand before she can say anything else.

"Sister Jude," I say quietly, "My dough." I glance pointedly at the sticky mass. Sister Jude inhales deeply before addressing Doctor Thredson again.

"That office we gave you—"She kneads vigorously, "I need it back. You've had more than enough time to advise the courts. You've got two weeks, and you're out." I'm starting to feel sorry for the lump of dough as she slams it onto the table again.

Doctor Thredson strides from the room, leaving Sister Jude and I alone once more.

Sister Mary Eunice walks into the common room and over to the record player, the music stops and she turns around, "Sister Jude has asked me to make an announcement."

"There's a big storm heading our way." She said as her eyes moved across the patients.

"And when it hits, half of you are going to be too afraid to move. And other half won't be able to stop moving. It would be chaos. And that won't do. So, Sister Jude has arranged for a distraction. A movie, on Friday night, when storm will be at its worst." She glances up at the ceiling and back down. "We're all going to be together in the dark, watching The Sign of the Cross, a movie full of fire, sex, and the death of Christians. What fun." Sister Mary Eunice moves towards the Spanish woman before making her way from the room.

"There won't be a lockdown this Friday night if we're all supposed to be watching a movie." I hear Kit say quietly.

"We were just caught trying to escape." Grace replied, the voice of reason.

"Which means they won't be expecting it to happen again so soon." When I hear nothing form Grace this time, I frown. She's only the voice of reason until she's talked into it, apparently.

Miss Winters walks into the room and Grace stands to confront her.

"You ruined our chance of getting out of this place." Grace says hotly.

"I'd do it again, if it means I can stop him from killing anymore." Miss Winters replies.

"Can't say I blame you," Kit says as her joins the two, "I'd have done the same thing if I believed what you believe. But I'm innocent."

"Walker." A man from the medical wing that I've never seen before moves closer to the trio, "Dr. Arden wants to see you." He finishes. Kit glances back at the two women before following him from the room.

I'm walking down the hall from the Hospital wing, staring down at my hands as I go. Pepper has become particularly snappy with the coming storm and when a hard wind knocked a tree branch against the windows in the common room Pepper almost bit my finger off when I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. A visit to Doctor Arden and about six inches of gauze later, I'm sulking and pulling lightly at the fabric the surrounds my finger. I bump into a hard, warm mass and inhale sharply as I start to fall backwards. My hands reach out, my fingers curling into warm cotton as two large, strong hands wind around my upper arms. I glance up to see Doctor Thredson standing there, with dark eyes. The light from above glints off of his glasses.

"I am so sorry, Doctor Thredson." I say in earnest, "I should have been watching where I was going." I slowly uncurl my hands from his white shirt and spot the crimson blossom of blood my wounded finger had left behind. I groan in embarrassment and pull my sweater over my hand before rubbing at the offending splotch.

"I ruined your shirt." I say sadly and look up at him.

His eyes are fixed on the spot on my sweater where I've bled through.

"What happened?" He asks and pulls the fabric back before wrapping his fingers around my now bare wrist before he tugs at the bandage. The gauzy fabric twirls up and off my finger as he pulls it.

"Umm…Pepper. Storms make her nervous. I got too close today." I explain softly as I watch him examine the area where the skin is marred.

"She bit you?" He inquires, his gaze shifting from my finger to my face.

I nod and press my thumb against my lips soothingly. His eyes dart down to my mouth.

He raises my injured finger up towards his face slowly before slipping my finger into his mouth and sucking. His eyes fall close and he exhales a shuttering breath, the pads of his fingers stroking the back of my hand and palm.

I gasp, my lips part and my eyes widen. The sudden urge to swallow the liquid accumulating in my mouth is almost overwhelming and the warmth that settles in my stomach is disconcerting. I press my thumb into my mouth and curl my lips around it before expelling the saliva from my mouth. The gulp I make is audible, to me at least.

"Doctor Thredson?" I murmur around my appendage quietly.

His eyes snap open and her releases my finger from his mouth and my wrist from his hand before turning abruptly and quickly striding back down the hall.

I glance down at my finger and sigh; I need a new bandage now. I turn and make my way back towards the hospital wing wondering what had just happened.

What exactly had Doctor Thredson been doing? I glance down at my finger, still slick with his saliva, and frown. The warmth in my stomach hasn't gone away yet and I can' help but feel alarmed by this. Is this arousal? I had assumed that I was broken in some way when it came to my sexuality. My body has never had this kind of reaction before so it was a logical assessment.

I turn down the hallway that will take me to the hospital wing. I hope Doctor Arden won't be too upset with me over my frequent visits today, the way that man looks at the patients scares me.

I am curled up once again in my favorite chair in the common room. As I expected Doctor Arden has had me medicated upon my second visit. One pill every eight hours, he calls it an antibiotic, but antibiotics don't have this sort of side effects. The ditsy nurses that work under him assure me that all is well, as if they would know if the 'Good Doctor' tried to poison me or not. My heart rate has lowered to an almost alarming pace, I'm lethargic and my temperature has dropped significantly. It's exceptionally cold today, it seem to seep through the walls. My hands shake inside of my sweater as I bring my slipper covered feet up to rest on the cushion, I turn my body sideways and pull my gown down, over my knees and toes, as I rest my head against the back of the chair.

It's a struggle to breathe, I have to concentrate on drawing air into my lungs, it's one of those things people don't care about until it's not there anymore, the mindless action of breathing. I don't recall how many days have passed, I only know that they have. I try to suppress a shiver, how can it be this cold in October? I feel like the walls should be iced over, I can't see my breath in the air though, It's only me that's feeling the frigidness.

I see the sun shining in on the piano, the light is strangled, as always, but the warmth draws me to it. I rise from the chair and make my way over to the piano bench. I pause for a moment, deliberating on how to soak up as much of the rays as possible. I decide and quickly move to face the window before slowly easing myself into a Supine position across the whole bench. I angle my head to hang over one side and allow my legs to swing in the muted light.

My hair puddles on the floor in thick white curls and I start to hum to myself. Perhaps I should tell Sister Jude what Doctor Arden is doing, I doubt that she would approve. She dislikes the man more than I do. I flex my fingers before I coil them into the sleeves of my sweater.

I hear the doors open and Doctor Thredson walks in. He holds the door for two men that are carrying a long metal object. I crane my neck around to watch them for a moment before I allow my eyes to rest on Doctor Thredson. My heavy eyelids struggle to remain opened as I stare at him. The men leave only to return with two wooden ladders.

Doctor Thredson makes his way down the aisle between the rows of chairs that are set up for the movie, he comes to a stop just before the last row and he draws his cigarette up to his mouth and inhales deeply. I remember how warm his skin was on mine, the heat of his mouth as his lips closed around my wounded finger. I feel the warmth return to my stomach, it settles between my hips, and I can't help but smile. He makes me warm without even touching me.

His eyes meet mine, my face heats up and I hold his gaze for as long as I can before I have to look away, has gaze makes my skin craw in the most pleasurable way. The men are hanging the contraption from the ceiling with chains and Doctor Thredson is directing them. His voice is firm but polite.

"A little lower on the right there." He instructs as he takes another pull form his cigarette.

"Perfect. Thank you, gentlemen." He turns and walks over to the small table a few feet from me where the water and paper cups are. He slides his cigarette between his lips, holding it there with gentle pressure as he reaches for the pitcher. Miss winters rises from the couch where she was seated an approaches him. I frown, she has no business with him, he's here for Kit, not her. My frown deepens as I realize that, I too, have no business with him. I turn my head away and close my eyes, trying to shoo away the feeling that's washed over my body and focus on my breathing again.

"Dr. Thredson?" I hear Miss Winters say, "My name is Lana Winters." Lana, such a silly name. I giggle as I remember what Sister Jude calls her, Lana Banana, fitting since one of the many slang words for the homosexual is fruit.

"Can I have a word with you?" Her voice pulls me from my inner ravings, "In private?" I huff internally, no business, Miss Winters, watch your step. I hear the sound of footfalls approaching but I can't find it in myself to open my eyes and investigate. Breathing is hard enough.

"Would you excuse us for a minute, please?" I pry my eyelids opened and roll my eyes to see Doctor Thredson standing over me. I frown at him and twist my body around to remove myself form the bench only to land on his shoes. My diminishing breath is knocked form my lungs and I cannot stop a small, almost non-existent, whimper from escaping my lips. I gasp, attempting to draw enough air into my defective lungs so that I can get off this cold floor, to end this embarrassment.

Two large hands grip my upper arms tightly, pull me from the floor, and deposit me back onto the piano bench. My limbs and ribs are aching from where they slammed into the concrete floor and Doctor Thredson''s shoes.

"Gabriel? Gabriel are you alright?" Hot palms slide against the back of my neck and forehead, holding me in place lightly. I flinch and try to turn my head but it's not enough to shake the offending appendages off. The heat sears through my skin in the most uncomfortable of ways, it's kind of ironic, I would usually soak this kind of attention up like a cat in the sun, but today it's almost painful.

"Your temperature low and your skin is damp. Are you taking any kind of medication, Gabriel?" His voice is firm, it sounds almost angry but not quite.

I shake my head, I have no idea how to answer his question, I wasn't told what is was supposed to be and even if I knew the name I'm sure I would be unable to tell him at this moment.

I can feel tears burning in my eyes before they slid down my face and land in puddles on my gown, I smell a metallic odor that makes the air thick and stick to my lungs.

An unascertained vexatious substance starts to leak from my nostrils and I squeeze my eyelids together tighter in an attempt to shield myself from the disgusted look that I am sure is on Doctor Thredson's face at my involuntary discharge.

The hand that is resting on my forehead slides down my face and joins its match in curling around my neck. The hands start shaking me gently and I open my eyes in defeat, the thick substance that has been dribbling from my defiant nose, coating my lips and chin before dripping down onto the skirt of my gown, has joined the tear drops on the rough fabric.

The color is wrong for it to be the average secretion. The mucus that is dripping sluggishly from my nose is almost purple in color but has a heavy crimson tone that I can't quite place. I feel a wave of nausea roll through my body and I choke when I try and swallow, the metallic scent has transformed into my mouth and is coating the back of my throat so thickly that I can taste it.

I open my mouth and attempt to draw in as much air as possible only to choke on the rush of liquid my lungs take in, I start to splutter and cough, small dots of deep red land on Doctor Thredson's pristine white shirt and suit.

My eyelids drift closed and my body succumbs to exhaustion.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


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